


tort

by boredycat



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, M/M, New Game Plus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-09-23 11:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17079632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredycat/pseuds/boredycat
Summary: Their plan failed, and now Akira is back at square one.Literally.





	1. Chapter 1

The plan didn’t work.

Of course it didn’t work, none of them were expecting the police to drug him up, abuse him, make him go through hell-

It doesn’t matter, really. The plan didn’t work, Akechi is standing over a dead man with a smile that seems real, for once – Akira always wanted to know what Akechi was really like, underneath his smarmy layer of fakeness, but not like this, never like this – and he knows his fate is sealed just as Okumura’s was.

Underneath the fog of drugs, he feels like he’s simultaneously on a cloud and being crushed underneath a ton of bedrock. He can barely see, barely even think – though it doesn’t matter, because soon he’ll never do either again. He let down his friends ( _his friends who didn’t even flinch at gambling with his life, who didn’t even bother to try to come up with a less dangerous plan, who are so assured in his skills that they didn’t even consider that he’s going to_ die _because of them_ -) and now he’s going to suffer the price, dealt out by someone who he almost could’ve called a friend.  

Almost.

There was too much of a distant between them before, caused by their lies and deceptions to each other. Right now is probably the only time neither of them have been pretending - he’s got nothing left to gain, and Akechi has nothing left to lose.

He almost smiles. At least in his last moments he can finally see Akechi’s true self. If only it hadn’t turned out like this – it could make for a good bonding moment.

But he’s going to die, Akechi’s going to kill him, and there’s nothing neither of them could do to change that.

He blinks, and focuses back on the situation at hand – on his failure, on his final moments, on his to-be-murderer. He’s saying something now, some victory speech rubbing in soon to be lack of life. He can’t hear what he’s saying, the words running over him like water. He can hear his tone though – it’s far lower than normal, a timbre of poisonous honey. It’s far less charming than his usual tone, but far less grating as well.

There’s cold metal pressed against his temple, and the world swims in front of him. His eyes trail to the gun, before forcing himself to look into Akechi’s eyes. He tries to find something, anything, in them, but there’s nothing but blankness. The forced calmness of the drugs starts to give way to a layer of panic, and the world becomes clear for the first time since he woke up in the interrogation room. Akechi’s grin gets wider at his obvious panic, wider and more painful and wider and wider until -

“This is how your justice ends.”

\- the bullet is shooting through his head and nothing hurts until everything hurts and his head is exploding in pain and there’s laughter he can’t hear and red he can’t see and and and-

Everything goes dark.

His head is still foggy when he wakes up, and there’s a feeling of wrongness aching through him. Something happened, something bad, but it alludes him like everything always does. He opens his eyes to an attic he barely remembers. It’s far messier now, and far more impersonal, with Sojirou’s junk spread everywhere and none of his belongings in sight.

He feels a loss in his gut. He never thought Akechi could ever actually shoot him, would ever betray him. He should’ve known better but -

He blinks.

Akechi shot him.

In the head.

At point blank range - a shot that no one could survive.

And –

_This is how your justice ends._

He should be dead. _He should be dead._

He shoots up, and falls out of bed with all of his non-existent grace, the memories hitting him harder than the bullet. The bullet that should’ve killed him, that must’ve killed him – yet somehow he’s still alive in Leblanc’s attic, with nary a scratch on him.

He tries to think logically. It could just be a dream but – no. The bullet definitely went through his head - he can still feel it if he concentrates hard enough – and there’s no way he could ever have dreamed up that expression on Akechi’s face. That smile was far more terrifying than anything he’s ever seen, and without the numbness the drugs, he shivers. Besides, a dream couldn’t explain how the attic – his attic – could’ve changed so much.

He stumbles down the stairs, wide eyed, to breakfast curry and an unfriendly Sojiro.

“Oh, so you are actually going to school?”

He remembers Sojiro say the same thing before, he remembers his mocking tone, his sneer. He remembers his room looking empty and desolate, with dust as far as the eye can see.

He remembers because it’s all happened before, on his first day at Shujin, and that must mean –

He’s back where he started.

He stumbles to the bathroom and tries to resist the urge to throw up.

(He fails).

* * *

 

 

Everything’s far too similar for him. 

The walk to school is the same as always, with students surrounding him, gossiping about Akechi’s latest mundane interview. The path he takes is no different from any other day, and his uniform itches in the way he’s gotten used to.

At the same time, everything is far too different. The weather, for one, with the spring rain splashing against his glasses. There’s no talk of the Phantom Thieves, and students don’t stare for once, just let their eyes past straight over him. The way Sojiro looked at him after coming out of the bathroom – no sympathy in his eyes, and a harsh command to eat quickly so he can open up shop.

He’s not sure which one is more unsettling – the familiarity of the past, or the differences it contains.

He runs his finger along his bag as the world burns and crashes around him. It’s not the first time the world has fucked him over, but it’s the first time, in a long time, that he’s alone to deal with it. There’s no one on his side – no one to ask for advice, no one to create plans with, and no one to rely on. 

For the first time, in a long time, he doesn’t know what to do.

He takes a deep breath and tries to think. The easiest plan is to just try again, pretending he knows nothing - that he doesn’t know that the plan will fail, that he doesn’t know how dangerous Akechi is or how drugs feel like coursing through your system. It’s technically the plan with the least risk – he knows how things will work out, after all but, well, if he fails . .  .

Okay, another plan then. He could just, not go to the TV station on the field trip? That would change things, maybe Akechi wouldn’t have figured them out if he never met them. Unlikely, and, if it fails, he will still meet the same end. Or perhaps he could get Akechi arrested and see how _he_ likes being –

He sighs and looks up.

He forgot how bad the rain was on his first day, it’s a wonder he didn’t drown the first time around. He can almost hear Morgana yowling about it from his bag – for a non-cat, he hates the rain in a very cat-like fashion.

He can’t care – can’t think - about that now, though. There’s a choice he has to make.

He sees Ann sheltering from the rain and stops.

If he waits with her, things will start the same. Kamoshida will pick Ann up, Ryuji will run into him, they’ll go into the metaverse, they’ll meet Morgana. He’ll be late, Kamoshida will threaten him will expulsion, they’ll change his heart. The Phantom Thieves will begin once again, with Akira as the fearless leader who will do anything for his team, who tempts danger and risks death enacting dumb plans that never would have worked.

He shakes his head, and keeps on walking.

If things start the same way once again . . .

They’ll probably end the same way, too.

He’ll figure out what to do just – later. Not now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The gym is different from what he’s used to, with Kamoshida on court “blessing” everyone with his presence. It feels alive, with students chatting and watching the tournament, the game  – the abuse – in earnest. He prefers the gym where no one entered unless they needed to, a place cursed by Kamoshida and his sins. He’d much rather the sombre silence that was always in it, the knowledge that haunted them all to _this_. Kamoshida’s abuse is blatant, hitting balls to students with far too much force. Every time he hears that painful sound of the ball hitting flesh, his teeth get grinded down just a little bit more. And then more again, as his fellow teachers congratulate his hits and celebrate their win.

At the rate the tournament is going, his teeth will be dust by the end of the day.

Being back here, simply put, is hell. It’s made worse by the fact that he doesn’t have Ryuji - doesn’t have anyone - this time. He shakes his head. He can’t afford to feel sorry for himself right now.

He closes his eyes and tries to think.

He has to stop Kamoshida, and all the other corrupt adults as well. He just doesn’t know how - every plan he comes up with have the same annoying flaw. He wonders, not for the first time, if he made the right choice to leave Ryuji there. He helped some people last time, at least – but, then again, he can’t help anyone if he’s dead.  So, he can’t die again, he won’t die again, he’ll do anything to make _sure_ he doesn’t die again, to make sure he doesn’t leave people to suffer. If that means he can’t deal with Kamoshida right now, with Ryuji, Ann and Morgana by his side, it’ll be worth it in the end.

He’ll figure it out. It’ll be fine. He doesn’t have a choice, after all.

The guilt settles deeper in his stomach.

He hears someone call his name and his eyes snap open.

There’s a student in front of him, staring down at him with a mixture of fear and disgust. He almost forgotten his reputation last time, but he doubts he could forget it now.

“It’s your turn on court,” he says, hostility clear in his tone.

Akira blinks.

It’s his turn on court.

He’s never played volleyball at Shujin before, much less with Kamoshida. He never wanted to but he’s never had a say, and that’s not going to change now.

He walks up to a spot on court, near the net.

He shivers.

Kamoshida is watching him with a glint in his eyes as he rolls the ball over in his hands. Akira stares back at him – just because he’s on court it doesn’t mean that Kamoshida’s in charge. Then there’s the shrill sound of the whistle, and the ball is in the air - headed straight for him. He barely manages to duck in time for it to fly over his head, and straight into the student behind him instead. It seems he wasn’t lucky enough to avoid it in time, collapsing to the ground as the teachers cheer once again.

Akira takes a deep breath, and focuses. That ball was never meant for that student – it was meant for him. Someone else got hurt in his place, someone suffered in his place. He looks at Kamoshida again, and feels his resolve harden.

The ball is rolled over to the over side, and Akira watches as Kamoshida picks it up and rolls it in his hands. He’s grinning now, but he’s going to make sure that he won’t be soon. The whistle blows, Kamoshida hits the ball, headed straight for Akira – and he jumps, blocking the ball with his arms. It hurts, it hurts a lot, but it’s worth it to see the ball go over and hit a teachers arm. He’s grinning as he sees it rebound off court, straight into the ground.

The court is quiet for the first time that day. There’s = immeasurable tension in the air as Kamoshida silently walks over and picks up the ball, smile gone. There’s something feral in his gaze as he looks up to Akira.

Akira smiles.

He may have made the rest of the game a hell for himself, but he can’t say he regrets it yet. He’s willing to take anything if it stops people from getting hurt.

Well, almost anything.

* * *

 

Shibuya station is as busy as always. Unfortunately. Kamoshida is also far more sadistic than he remembered. Unfortunately.

His body is barely holding up as is, and every bump of the crowd just makes it worse.

It’s weird being injured in real life - he’s too used to the healing in the metaverse that made it easy  - too easy - to forget that there was ever an injury. Now though, there was no forgetting. There are bruises all over his body, and he’s stumbling along like he’s just gotten black out drunk. His body aches and pains and he has to bite down a wince every time he walks on his left leg. He doubts he’ll would be able to get home without passing out if he can’t use the metaverse to heal himself. He hopes it works – he needs it to, Sojiro would kick him out otherwise, or just straight out kick him, if he came home like this.

He winces as yet other person bumps into his shoulder. He needs to keep going, he’s so close to the metaverse –

Another person bumps into him and his body decides that that enough, collapsing to the ground with less grace than an elephant on ice. Yusuke would be disappointed. Ryuji would be proud. He just feels sorry for the poor soul he dragged down with him. And sorry for himself – couldn’t even survive one volleyball match without bringing someone else down with him.

He feels someone roll out from underneath him, and catch him before he could fall face first into the ground. He closes his eyes and groans. He’s never felt more ashamed in his life.

His victim rolls over his rotting corpse, Akira opens his eyes and –

Oh no.

He’s _not_ dealing with this today.

He closes them.

“Are you alright?” an awfully familiar voice asks and Akira almost scowls.

He _can’t_ deal with this today. He could deal with Kamoshida, he could deal with his abuse, but he can’t deal with _Akechi_ today.

“You fell, ahaha, rather hard, and you don’t look very well,” Akechi continues with a laugh so fake he feels insulted. C’mon Akechi, laugh at his failures properly, like how you did in the -

Akira puts his hands on the ground and pushes himself up forcefully, before opening his eyes again. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he says, with an actual scowl this time. He didn’t think he’d bump into – literally – Akechi so soon.

He looks up to see Akechi raising a brow. He scowls harder. Akechi puts the brow back down, before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t quite believe that. You, ah, “ Akechi gestures at his body and, fair enough but _ouch,_ Akechi, “don’t seem to be very fine. Can I help?”

Akechi reaches a hand out to him, and Akira has never felt more lost in his life. Why is Akechi worried about him? He knows it’s just because he’s a stranger, but there’s something heavy and confusing in his chest and - he needs to go. He can’t do this.

He stands up, ignoring the hand Akechi is holding out for him, and straightens his jacket.

“I’m fine,” he repeats.

“I’m just,” he waves his hand around aimlessly, “clumsy. Not good with sports. Whatever.”

He looks down at Akechi, who’s still kneeling on the ground, then turns around and walks as fast as he can. Well, limps as fast as he can. It’s not very fast but –

He needs to get out.

He shouts thanks behind him as an afterthought. He’s never felt more like a douchebag in his entire life.

He doesn’t know what to do with Akechi, much less a worried Akechi. He doesn’t think he’s ever known what to do with him.

He’ll figure it out though.

He has to.

* * *

 

 

It turns out that healing real life injuries in the metaverse doesn’t really work. It gets rid of the physical signs of the injuiry, for sure, but the pain is still there. Still, it’s better than nothing, and it let him go back home without risk of getting kicked out, or just straight out kicked, by Sojirou. Who cares if that means he can’t breathe properly or walk properly. Definitely not him.

Maybe _Akechi_ though, for some reason. He doesn’t even know how his luck was so bad to bump into him of all people. He’s the one flaw in every plan Akira’s come up with, and he smashed him into the ground then ran away. Did he even say sorry?

He’s going to be murdered before he can even help anyone.

He sighs.

Akechi.

How is he going to deal with him?

He knows almost nothing about Akechi – not his motives, his employer, his weakness and flaws, _nothing_. He tries to think of the things he does know. He frowns.

He knows how he likes his coffee?

Like _that_ will come in handy.

He shakes his head.

He needs more information about him. All the information he can get. Last time, they were relying on scraps of info from previous targets but . . .

Something clicks.

He knows what to do.

He hopes it works out, in the end.


	3. Chapter 3

Almost.

He’s got a plan now, but enacting it is easier said than done. He doesn’t have any resources – no money, no allies, no nothing. The only thing he has is his personas – and thank god for that, because otherwise he’d be injured coming home and even more so leaving it. He’s as strong as he was before, too, which will make things easier. Not enough, though. He needs another plan. A plan for the plan. He needs to plan the plan for the plan. He’s planning on planning the plan for the - 

He shakes his head, snapping himself out of it.

He needs is money. And allies.

Money is the easiest to plan for – he just needs to go and get 100 jobs again, and grind through mementos.

For allies . . . He had a lot last time, and, while they were helpful, he needs to be more careful. Get less people involved in case _something_ happens again. Iwai and Takemi are essential – he needs his weapons, and he needs his medicine. Ohya’s media links would be helpful too. He never ended learning what happened to her partner, but if he learns it this time – well, it can only help. Three people to rely on, that’s not too much. It makes him anxious but there’s nothing he can do on his own right now.

It’s annoying, all of this. He had spent countless hours earning money, strengthening connections, all for it to go to waste. He had earnt enough money to not have to look at the price of things, and he had a wide network of people that he could rely on. Now though, he has less than 100 yen to his name, and not a person to help him.

Fresh starts are annoying, but he’s glad he’s got it, anyway. He screwed up last time, and now he can make amends – as long as he doesn’t make anymore mistakes.

He hopes he isn’t making a mistake now.

He cracks his knuckles. He’s made his choice, and he’s sticking to it. No backing out now, it’s game time. He’ll start tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

“He’ll start tomorrow.”

Yeah, he’ll start tomorrow, it’s not like anything important or noteworthy will happen _tomorrow_. There’s nothing happening tomorrow – today now – well, except one little thing. It’s barely worth mentioning at all – just Ann on the phone to Kamoshida, arguing loudly. Nothing important, it only means that if Akira doesn’t do something right now, Shiho is going to jump of Shujin roof tomorrow.

He’s never felt dumber in his life.

It doesn’t matter now though – all that matters is that Ann’s upset and Shiho is about to go through hell because of that _bastard_ , again. Comforting Ann is one of the few things he did right last time. Chasing after her, being there for her, just listening was the best thing he’s ever done for her – and it was what he had to do. It’s even more important to be her for her now, as her friend, her _teammate_ , it’s his _job_ but if he does, he won’t be able to help Shiho.

If he helps her, Shiho will jump. But if he leaves her and helps Shiho, she won’t have anyone there for her.

So – help her or leave her?

It’s not a choice at all, really, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. Running away from her – towards Shiho – he feels like the worst kind of trash.

He’s doing this for her, for Shiho for everyone. He’d be even worse trash if he let Shiho go through that again, he knows.

It doesn’t make him feel any better.

The train is moving far too slow and his brain is moving far too fast. His hands are jittery and his legs shaky. He’s got some sort of plan, but barely – his brain not letting him think anything other than how Shiho fell, how devastation Ann was, how everything happened that day –

The train stops at Shujin, and Akira takes off. His body is weaker than he’s used to and he hates it – he can’t move fast enough, he’s going to be too late too late too late –

He shakes his head and refocuses.

He should be around here somewhere, he’s always bumping into him at the worst possible times so why isn’t he seeing him –

Akira runs straight into Mishima.

He blinks. There he is.

“Where’s Kamoshida?”

Mishima looks pitiful and frightened – well, more so than usual.

“Uhhhh, he’s, ah, in the faculty office but he’s with someone with the moment, I wouldn’t-“

Akira _doesn’t have time for this._

“Who’s he with?”

C’mon Mishima c’mon-

“Su – Suzui-san, but-“

That’s all he needs.

 

* * *

 

 

The P.E. faculty office always gave off terrifying vibes to him, even before he found out what Kamoshida did in there, and now, those vibes were stronger then ever. Akira feels like he’s just swallowed a live, beating heart and it’s gotten stuck in his throat.

He doesn’t know what to do here – he’s playing it all by ear but he’s tone deaf. There’s so many – too many - ways he can fail. He has no other choice though – what else could he do, leave Shiho there to go through _that_?

He’s not going to let that happen, not again.

He swallows down his hesitation and knocks on the door, loudly, continuously. As he expected, nothing happens – at first. So he keeps going – louder, quicker, faster –

The door opens to reveal a pissed off Kamoshida that Akira almost knocks on.

“Is Suzui-san in there?” Kamoshida’s eyes’ narrow. Great. “I need to talk to her about something, it’s –“

“I’m busy with her at the moment,” Kamoshida states, and then slams the door in his face.

He takes up his knocking again. He’s not going to let Kamoshida get away with this. Who does he think he is, that bastard?

He keeps going.

And going.

And going.

His hands are starting to hurt but it only makes him knock harder. He’s not going to stop, he’ll keep going even if his hands start to bleed. He’s not going to fail, not again.

Finally, the door opens again. Kamoshida’s face is red and Akira can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Akira’s getting under his skin now, there’s no denying it. It’s dangerous to piss him off too much but he needs to, and besides, it makes him want to smile. Just a little bit.

“We’re busy now, Kurusu-kun. Why don’t you try talking to her tomorrow?” he says, with a tiny little smile that Akira wants to punch off his slimy face

“It’s important. I’m not leaving till I can speak to her.”

Kamoshida stares him down. All of a sudden, his face changes to something more pleasant. It makes his skin crawl.

“Your behaviour and attitude at the moment is not suiting of a Shujin student. If this continues, I might have to bring it up in the next board meeting.”

He was expecting something like this.

“You can do what you want. I still need to see Suzui-san. Is there a problem with that?”

He can’t quite keep the sneer off his face but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s not going to budge on this.

They stare each other down, Kamoshida’s face getting redder and redder until –

“Fine. But don’t think you’re getting away with this, Kurusu.”

 

* * *

 

 

Shiho and Akira sit on a bench outside Shujin in silence. It’s awkward, tense. He can’t stand it, it makes him want to squirm and run away, but he’s not that much of a coward. Not yet, anyway.

He sighs.

He’s never really initiated conversations like this before. People usually just come to him, telling him all about their problems, and all Akira has to do is say one simple sentence, do one little thing, and it’s all over. He can’t do that here – Shiho is quiet, not the type to speak up, and her problems run far deeper than he can imagine to help with one little word.

“You wanted to speak with me?”

He almost doesn’t hear her, it’s like she hadn’t spoken at all. Being quiet feels necessary here.

“No, not really. I just,” he waves his hand around, “had a bad feeling.”

“Oh.”

She twists her hands in her lap.

There’s a beat.

“Are you okay?”

Her hands stop twisting for a moment, then start again, more rigorous than before.

“I’m okay.”

Akira looks down at his own hands, then looks to Shiho.

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know.”

“I know. It’s just – I’m fine. I’m handling it.”

He wishes Ann was here. Shiho and Ann were always so close, and that’s what she needs right now. Someone who she knows, who she can rely on. Someone Akira can’t be, not for her.

Maybe he could push her towards Ann?

“Do you have a friend you can trust? It might be a good idea to talk to them.”

“There is, but she’s under enough stress at the moment already. She doesn’t need to worry about me as well.”

It’s a noble thought, but it’s selfish, too, he thinks.

“Your friend, you want her to rely on you right?”

Shiho frowned.

“Of course I do, but-“

“Then you should rely on her. It’s unfair to want that from her when you can’t bring yourself to do the same.”

Shiho doesn’t say anything after that, but she doesn’t need to. Her eyes are pained, shameful, looking anywhere but him.

Was that the right thing to say? He can’t fail this, he can’t let Kamoshida cause anyone to do that ever again.

“If you want someone else to talk to though, I’m a pretty good listener, I think. I work at a coffeeshop in Yogen-Jaya too, Leblanc, so if you ever come around, I can get you something on the house.”

He doubts she’ll take it up, but it’s the least he can do for her.

Shiho stands up and looks at him - really looks at him - for the first time.

“You’re Kurusu-kun, right? The transfer kid everyone keeps talking about? I knew the rumours weren’t true, you’re a good person. I,” she struggles for a moment, before shaking her head, “you’re right, I think. Thank you.”

Shiho’s a soft-spoken person, even now her conviction is shaky, but her eyes are clear and focused. She says goodbye and walks away, head held low, but just a little higher than it was before.

Akira can do nothing but watch. When she disappears, he slinks back to the train to head home. He doesn’t see Ann in Shibuya station.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't expect this to get as much attention as it is, so i'd just like to say thank you so much!! i hope you continue to enjoy reading this! if you ever want to talk, you can find me on twitter @boredycat <3


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing he does is lock the door to the roof. It’s the first time he’s pick locked, or reverse pick locked, something in real life and it takes him far too many tries. It’s not a lot, but it’s something at the least. If she comes – if he failed – it’ll probably deter her from, well.

It does little to calm his nerves.

The second thing he does is pretend that everything’s okay.

As far as he can tell, everything _is_ okay. Ann looks alright, greeting him with the same polite smile that she’s been giving him since he started again, and he smiles back like normal and pretends his heart doesn’t hurt. Kawakami looks fed up with him as usual, still not having warmed up to him yet. All his classes continue as normal, and the day ends with no unusual interruptions.  

It doesn’t feel right at all.

Nothing has, since he’s come back but there’s a new level of wrong going on here, a bad air lingering. There must be something – something he missed, something that isn’t quite right, something that’s going to blow back up in his face in the worst possible way.

The classroom empties and all he can do is sit and watch and wait for something to happen.

Ann leaves slowly – slower than usual – and it sets off alarm bells. He never should’ve left her behind in the station, something bad must’ve happened to her, there’s no way he could’ve fixed everything and it’s all fine , especially when it’s _Kamoshida_ –

She laughs at something, and it takes Akira far too long to realise she’s moving slowly because she’s on her phone with someone.

He relaxes, just a little.

She’s fine – probably. She probably just went home, alone, after that phone call, and she was okay.

It’s the probably that worries him.

“Hey,” someone says, and there’s an arm shaking his shoulder slightly and how long was he even tuned out for for him not to –

“Did you mean that coffee offer yesterday?”

He blinks up to see Shiho standing in front of him looking almost as nervous as he feels. He makes his face relax and puts a gentle smile on it. A feeling of dread settles in his stomach.

“Of course.”

“Let’s – now. Let’s do it now.”

Her face is serious, her tone stone flat. There’s a tremor in her voice, and his anxiety grows.

He chuckles and stands up, leading her away.

* * *

 

The air in Leblanc is heavy – too heavy. They’re the only two in the store – Sojiro got a phone call (from Futaba, most likely) and left them there with only a raised eyebrow and a snarky comment. He’s still not sure if he should be grateful for that or not.

Shiho looks dead, waiting for her coffee with her head in her arms, groaning slightly. Akira would say he’d never seen someone so desperate for coffee in his life, but he still remembers the time Akechi walked in, shell-shocked and dead on his feet, without even the energy for the usual banter –

His heart aches. With what, he isn’t sure. He shakes it off, and focuses on the beans in front of him. What’s important now is Shiho, and what Shiho needs is some coffee. And a break.

He looks over to Shiho, dead to the world, and back at the beans, before smiling and getting to work.

The process is relaxing, familiar, allowing him to tune out from the world around him. It’s not long before he’s finished, sliding a cup across the counter to Shiho. She immediately perks up, back to the land of the living.

“This smells really nice. Thank you, Kurusu-kun.”

The air grows heavier. He hopes this is – what, the storm before the calm? That doesn’t make any sense but –

She sips her coffee and immediately spits it back out, almost spraying Akira, then slides the cup back to him with far too much force.

Akira stifles his grin. It worked.

 “What _is_ this? I thought you said you were good at making coffee?!”

He tries to look disappointed.

“You don’t like it?”

She stares at him.

“I put a lot of love into it,” he adds.

She continues to stare at him, before shaking her head.

“This is the worst cup of coffee I’ve had in my life. You put a lot of love into it? What’s your love made out of then? Is your heart just filled with bitterness?”

His façade cracks, and he bursts into laughter.

“Stop laughing, I’m being serious here!”

Despite the _unfair_ accusations, Akira can only feel relief. The air is lighter now, Shiho far less tense and nervous around him. Mission accomplished for now, at least.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. Look, I made another pot, if you want it, without any love. Can you trust me again?”

She slumps back down into her chair and doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s not a no, at least, so he pours out another cup – this time from the other pot he prepared. He slides it across to her, again, and she picks it up, hesitant.

“Don’t worry, this one isn’t poisoned.”

She stares at him.

“The other one was . . .?”

“Only with love,” he promises.

She rolls her eyes but relaxes, and takes a sip. This time, she melts into her chair, eyes closed with relief.

“Now, this is nice. Why didn’t you give this to me first instead?”

He shrugs.

“I wanted to show you my heart?”

“Never show it to me again.”

He laughs and, after a moment, she joins in. He’s never been so relieved to hear someone laugh before in his life.

“Still, how is possible that you can do something so badly and also so well?”

“I guess I’m just talented.” The time seems good now so - “You said you wanted to talk about something?”

She sighs and takes another sip of coffee, looking down at the table.

“I talked to my friend today. She said she was planning on bringing it up with me but she didn’t know how. Guess I beat her to the punch there, huh?” Shiho gave a little pained laugh. “Anyway, my friend, she was – she is – going through something similar with Kamoshida too.” She takes another sip of coffee and almost slams it back down.

“He hurt my friend. I thought it was only me, that she was fine and everything was okay but it wasn’t and she isn’t and I just –“

She waves her arms through the air helplessly.

“I hate him so much for it, and I just want to get away from him – and get Ann away from him too – but I can’t. It’s not like I can just leave, volleyball’s the only thing I’m good at and even then, I’m not the best. To learn I need a good teacher and despite how much I hate it, Kamoshida’s one of the best volleyballer’s in the country. If I want to go anywhere with it, I have to stay. I _can’t_ keep on doing this though, it’s so tiring. I just wish everything would go back to the way it was before, but it can’t.”

Her anger’s gone now, replaced with a deep-set tiredness that even Akira can feel in his bones.

“It can’t go back at all.”

The oppressive air has come back now, heavier than ever. He hates it, hates what Kamoshida’s done and how many people he’s hurt. He’s never wished to punch his smug face more in his life. He clenches his fist, grabbing his apron so hard that he almost tears through it before relaxing.

Shiho doesn’t need his anger right now.

“Staying in the team isn’t the only option, and it’s definitely not the best option, either. Kamoshida may be a good player, but that’s all – talented people aren’t necessarily good at teaching their talents, and he isn’t a good teacher at all. How’s everyone supposed to play at their best if they’re all injured?”

Shiho hesitates.

“Still . . .”

Akira shakes his head.

“You don’t need him, he’s,” _a less than worthless piece of shit that the world would be better off without, even if that means -,_ “nobody special. Not really.”

Just another piece of crap in this world.

“Besides, volleyball isn’t the only thing you’ve got.” Ann admired Shiho for her strength. Not many could go through what she did and still be there at the end of it, fighting as hard as she did.

She looks up.

“You sound so sure.”

“I am.”

He admired her for it too.

She sighs.

“I’m not sure but maybe. Maybe one day I could believe that.”

He smiles.

“I look forward to that day.”

* * *

 

Shiho leaves with a small smiles on her face which Akira mirrors until she’s long gone. Then, and only then, does he let his smile and his shoulders drop, and rub the stiffness out of his back.

He closes his eyes and sighs. There’s so much left to do.

A tea towel is thrown at his face.

“You think you can relax now that you’ve treated your date to a coffee?”

He blinks and straightens up. He must not have heard Sojiro come in, the exhaustion taking over his senses.

“It’s not like that. She’s going through a tough time so I wanted to reach out to her.”

Sojiro looks at him with a raised eyebrow, before lowering it and sighing.

“Alright, just don’t try to get into any trouble, alright?”

There’s a flash of anger in him. He’ll try to get into as much trouble as he can if he’s able help people because he can’t just leave them there like that, how dare he –

“Don’t give me that look, okay? I’m glad you’re making friends, but don’t get in over your head kid.”

He deflates at that, and can only mutely nod his head.

Sojiro sighs, before picking up the tea towel that was brutally thrown at Akira’s poor head.

“You haven’t made too much of a mess in here, so I’ll let you off for tonight. Here –“ there’s a pair of keys thrown at his face that Akira barely catches “- they’re the keys to the place. I wasn’t thinking of doing this so soon, but you’ve been doing alright. If you promise to lock up, you can go out and do whatever it is you kids do these days.”

He gives a small smile.

“I promise. Thanks.”

Sojiro’s expression melts a little bit.

“Whatever, kid. I’m heading off, going to bed early like you,” a hard glare is directed his way, “should be doing too.”

It’s barely 6 o’clock. Akira nods his head and wisely refrains from making the old man comment that he wants to, then leaves soon after him to work at the flower store. He gets home far later than Morgana would have ever been pleased with, but it’s worth it for the extra money he makes.

It still takes him far too long to fall asleep.

* * *

 

“This does not appear to be your first time playing this game, Trickster.”

Igor’s voice is as _welcoming_ as ever, smooth as a splintered wood barbed wire fence. He jolts up in his “bed” to a room he hasn’t seen since –

Well, since he before died. He didn’t miss it at all.

Still, if he could get answers here, then he’ll make it his favourite place in the world.

He drags himself to the bars and holds them, looking sharply at Igor.

“Why am I back here?”

Caroline hit the cell bars with her baton, and Akira jumps back.

“Show our master a little more respect, inmate!”

Igor chuckles, ignoring her.

“It was not me who brought you to play the game again – or, should I say, the me that appears in front of you.”

 “So –“

 “I am not knowledgeable about your previous attempt, Trickster, nor was it me who brought you back to play again – or, should I say, the me that appears before you now.”

Igor doesn’t know anything then. Akira sighs. He was the one person most likely to have all the answers, so if even he doesn’t know then Akira is truly alone in this world.

Again.

“Your rehabilitation fell through and you left your world to fall to ruin. Do you remember why you failed?”

Justine's gentle voice cuts through him like a knife. Guilt welds up inside of him.

“Yes.”

“You vow to not make the same mistakes again?”

“Of course.”

“Then we will supervise your rehabilitation again, though we do not remember it. Do not let our assistance go to naught again, you will not be so lucky next time.”

Igor chuckles.

“You are playing this game far differently than I would have imagined, Trickster. I look forward to seeing how you fare with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else still screaming about joker actually being in smash now? it still doesn't feel real. I've been playing as him in the crow skin and GOD it makes me so happy omg
> 
> anyway, i fixed a few little mistakes that I didn't spot earlier, if you see anymore please point them out to me! thank you so much for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Akira can feel a headache coming along.

“Hey, hey, bet you can’t guess who we saw hanging around Shujin yesterday.”

They’re so loud, especially for so early on in the morning. How is it possible to have so much energy before school?

“Ah, well, why don’t you tell me then?”

Probably dark magic or something – not even coffee could make people this obnoxious.

“Nah, I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, c’mon Chihiro-chan, stop being so mean to her! Look, I’ll tell her if you won’t.”

He wishes he could just speed up and overtake them, he can’t deal with this today, but –

“Hey, isn’t that the criminal following us?”

“Oh, shit, I think you’re right.”

“For once.”

“Oh shut up, just walk faster! I don’t want to get murdered today.”

“I wonder why they haven’t expelled him yet.”

“You know, I bet that’s why –“

“Be quiet already! We have to get away from him, before he, you know –“

 _That_ might happen instead. He sighs. He didn’t remember the rumours being so exhausting last time. Maybe they weren’t – maybe he could deal with them better because he wasn’t alone. It doesn’t matter, though, not really. He’ll survive it, because he has to. It’ll be worth it, in the end, because nobody’s will get hurt this time.

He’ll make sure of it.

* * *

 

The morning was a warning about what kind of day Akira was going to have – and he really wish he didn’t ignore it. But if Akira’s good at anything, it’s ignoring the danger signs and diving head first. If he listened, he could’ve called in sick, or attempted to fake his death again, or something, at least. It wouldn’t have helped in the long run, but, well.

It would’ve been worth it, if he could’ve avoided Kamoshida.

“Kurusu-kun,” he says, with a smile that has far too many teeth. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Kamoshida’s pretending to be friendly, now, and it angers him more than an openly aggressive Kamoshida. A Kamoshida that doesn’t try to hide his hatred is frustrating enough, but a Kamoshida that pretends that he’s a human being? Disgusting.

He glares at him and hopes Kamoshida gets the message. Clearly, he doesn’t, though, because his grin widens before relaxing his face and sighing.

“It’s this kind of behaviour that I wanted to discuss with you.” Discussing, right. Because Kamoshida is capable of calm, friendly _discussion_. “You’re not the ideal student for Shujin, at the moment. If you continue on like this, I’ll have no choice but to bring it up to the board.”

Kamoshida reaches over and grabs his shoulder, rubbing it in disgusting little circles that he supposes would be comforting, coming from anyone else. He resists the urge to shove him to the ground and get arrested for a crime he _did_ commit.

“I’d hate that to happen to you, you show so much promise. Under my guidance, I’m sure you could become a star volleyball player.”

Akira’s blood runs cold, then hot with fury. Oh, he knew Kamoshida was going to retaliate, but not like this – it’s low, even for him. Trying to blackmail him so he’d become another of one of his abused players?

Kamoshida takes his silence as worry, and tightens his grip.

“Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out with your guardian. I’m sure he’ll agree that it’ll be good for you. I might even be able to get the principal on board, too.”

The grip on his shoulder gets uncomfortably tight, before finally being released.

“Now, that was a good chat, wasn’t it? Now, you should go home before something happens. You wouldn’t want your guardian to worry, now would we?”

He turns around and leaves, and it’s only then that Akira allows himself to slump. He thought he’d have more time to deal with Kamoshida, but his hand’s been forced now, and Akira needs to work harder because –

“Dude, what an asshole. Are you okay?”

Ryuji’s voice makes him jump far too much for someone who was supposed to be the leader of the Phantom Thieves. It’s not often that someone gets the jump on him, Ryuji must be getting better at sneaking around in the –

He blinks. Ryuji got the jump on him – Ryuji, who hasn’t been to the Metaverse yet, who hasn’t meet Akira yet either. Ryuji, who must have seen the whole thing, given by the righteous fury he looks at him with.

It’s uncomfortably familiar.

“I’m fine.”

Ryuji only seems to get angrier, turning to face the wau Kamoshida left with a glare.

“Guy thinks the whole school’s his castle, the way he acts. I really wish I could just,” Ryuji clenches his fist in front of him, “take him down a peg or five. Ugh!” He grabs his hair in frustration. It’s so Ryuji his heart aches.

He straightens up and looks at Akira again, then gives a wild grin.

“Oh, Sakamoto Ryuji, by the way.”

Akira smiles. He knows.

“Kurusu Akira.”

It hurts that Ryuji doesn’t.

“Oh, aren’t you the, uh-“

 “Criminal record guy? Yep, that’s me.”

Akira hids his snicker. Ryuji’s as brash as always, and he seems to realise it, wincing at his words.

“Sorry, could’ve done that better.”

“It’s alright.”

Akira could stay with him forever, chatting and re-friending him but he knows that if he stays with him, he’ll never leave.

“I’ve, uh, got to go now, but I’ll see you around?”

Ryuji gives him a thumbs up and waves him off. Akira runs away with a cowardice he’s never been known for.

* * *

 

“You’re not usually back so early. Your usual plans fall through?”

Akira can only nod. He was planning on working after school, but his feet had different ideas, leading him to Yongen before he could even think.

He doubts he would’ve been able to work anyway. His mind feels far away, almost like it did when –

He shakes that thought away. No use dwelling on what never happened, and hopefully never will.

He’s been trapped by that for too long – it’s time for him to let go from what happened. He’s learnt from his mistakes now, so there’s no point looking back anymore.

Sojiro sighs and rubs the back of his head.

“Well, if you’re not doing anything, why don’t you help out around here? I know you can make coffee, but there’s always room to improve. You should make some for me, I could, uh, give you tips or something.”

Akira smiles mutely before getting up from the counter. Sojiro’s transparent as always, and he’s grateful for his concern, really.

He just doesn’t deserve it.

He takes it anyway, though – no need to worry him anymore.

* * *

 

Ann and Ryuji are arguing outside of Shujin. It’s painful how familiar it is – some things haven’t changed at all. All he wants to do is to watch them, occasional provide a decisive opinion, be there with them – but he can’t. They don’t even know him anymore – he’s only the person who sits behind her in class to Ann, and Ryuji, well, he doesn’t even know who he is.

Akira shakes himself out of his thoughts. He’s getting trapped again, he needs to let them go. He re-focuses.

It’s nice to see that those two will never change. It doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t feel lost.

He walks away from them.

He’s got more important things to do then watch his friends - or should he say old friends, or friends that never were - bicker. Kamoshida, for one. He needs to get rid of him soon – he can’t just leave him there hurting people, even without the thinly veiled threat from a few days ago. He isn’t prepared yet, though – his palace was hard enough the first time, and Akira isn’t dumb enough to think he can do it on his own just like that because he’s a _little_ stronger.

He needs to get stronger. And richer too – his wallet is emptier than the soulless void of space.

So he can’t deal with Kamoshida right now (and he pushes away his guilt at that thought) but there’s other things he can do. Like re-exploring Mementos – last time, he was in too much of a panic after Akechi to notice anything.

He sighs.

Akechi.

He hopes he doesn’t bump into him again, or at least not yet. He does need to meet him again at some point, if only to see what he can get out of him but – he can’t. Not yet, at least. Not until he figures out what emotions swirl inside of him. Betrayal, loss, pain, anger, fear, morbid curiosity, - he doesn’t know what he feels towards him.

He’s not sure he’ll ever know.

He gets to Shibuya without any problems – no suspiciously worried detectives anywhere in sight ( _and that’s another thing, Akechi’s concern that was confusing and painful and made him feel_ -) so he’s free to do as he wants. As he needs. No, the real trouble starts when he gets to Mementos. Without the Mona-Bus, traversing through it takes far longer. He wishes he could turn into a van as well – huh, that’s a statement he never thought he’d be making. He wishes Morgana was here more – to make it faster, easier to travel. Nothing else.

The Shadows are easy to defeat – far too easy. Akira barely has to do anything other than tear of their masks to defeat them. He can almost feel himself getting weaker after battling them, and that’s not what he needs. He wanted to use Mementos to train, but there’s nothing to gain from fighting here. The money from the shadows is nothing as well, so there’s not even that to gain.

Before long, he’s down at the first door. It won’t open, of course.

He curses.

He didn’t remember it being so early on – he thought it was a little more than two levels down, at the very least. If he could only go down a little further, he could get stronger, richer, better. Good enough to do what he must. But the only way they got to do that the first time was with fame. Akira can’t do that again, it’s far too dangerous a game.

He rubs his forehead absentmindedly.

Is there really no other way? Surely there must be something he can do, something without nearly as much risk. He sighs. Even if there was something, there no way he’d be able to think of it on his own – he’s not as smart as Futaba, nor as intrinsically knowledgeable about the Metaverse like Morgana – but there’s no one he can turn to.

He blinks.

Well, there’s someone who might know. The only thing is if he’s trustworthy enough for Akira to go to him, or if he’d actually help him out in the first place.

Well, it’s not like he has a choice.

* * *

 

He’s forever grateful that Justine is the one outside of the Velvet Room door in Mementos – it’s nice being able to walk through it rather than kicked through it, brutally. He’d never want to get on Caroline’s dark side, or get on it more than he already is.

He makes his way to the bars. He didn’t think he’d be back here so soon, and definitely not so willingly but –

“There’s something I need to know about Mementos.”

Igor only raises an eyebrow. Akira hesitates for a moment before continuing.

“Before, I could only get further down because the Phantom Thieves grew more famous.”

Igor hums.

“And you wish to know if there’s a way to get down there without that?”

Akira nods.

Igor leans back in his chair.

“Renown is necessary if you wish to go down further in Memento, but it need not be your own fame that takes you there. This should not be a challenge for you, if you are a Trickster in more than just name.”

His words are as vague and confusing as ever, and Akira really shouldn’t have expected anything more but –

“What does that –“

“That is all the help I can give you, Trickster.”

It’s not enough. Akira slumps, and Caroline slams her baton against the bars, stamping her foot.

“Straighten up, inmate! You better appreciate what our master has just done for you.”

Justine simply smiles.

“Make sure our master’s help today is not wasted. If there’s nothing more you need from us . . .”

Akira understands. He leaves with a head full of questions he’s supposed to be grateful for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been freaking out over P5R for the last two days, it looks so good? I already love Kasumi, like, a rhythmic gymnast character? That's so cool?? And more Goro, it seems like too :DD
> 
> Anyway, I've been thinking a bit about the Metaverse and what it means to be "known" as such, and my theories, i guess, on that are going be discussed more over the next few chapters! hope you enjoyed this one!


	6. Chapter 6

The dungeons are eerier than he remembers, the shadows deeper and the sounds of torture far louder than before. It echoes in his ears, drumming along like an erratic heartbeat of a monster that should never have been born. Destroying the Palace will stop the torture, but that monster can never die, not really.

If he looks hard enough, would he find himself among those students? Or would he be somewhere else in the castle?

He clenches his hand around his dagger.

It doesn’t matter – he’s not going to let Kamoshida play with him like a fucking toy, he’s going to destroy this place before that bastard even thinks about him, or anyone else, ever again.

He’s not ready for this, not ready to travel through a palace alone, but that’s never stopped him before. He wasn’t ready to steal Kamoshida’s heart the first time, he wasn’t ready to be a leader of a group of vigilantes, he wasn’t ready to get arrested and beaten up and betrayed and–

In short, he’s may not be “ready”, but he’s ready as he’ll ever be, no excuses left. Mementos was a scam, no way to get _anything_ down there, and all the other palaces he’s been to have had much stronger shadows. And he has to take down Kamoshida – he can’t wait till he figures out what Igor meant, even if it’s risky.

He sighs. His plan seems more and more complicated by the minute. He thought for sure that it was a good idea, that day, but there’s so much he has to do. He has to deal with Kamoshida, and potentially the other palaces, while trying to investigate Akechi and get strong enough to take down whatever fucker his boss might be and Akechi himself, if it ever comes to that ( _he hopes hopes hopes it never will because_ -)

He flips his dagger and takes down the shadow in front of him without a struggle. They’re not as bad as he remembers, or perhaps he’s just stronger than he thought. If things continue like this, he’ll be able to take down Kamoshida’s shadow without even really lifting a finger.

He’s finally at the cell he was looking for, and he hides behind a stack of crates before hesitantly looking around them. Morgana isn’t in the cell, and he really shouldn’t have expected less, and should really be grateful that he got out, somehow, and didn’t need him but –

There’s an ache in his heart that he knows he’ll never be able to squash.

He shakes his head and moves on. He needs to determine if the route is the same as he remembers, if it will all go alright if he steals Kamoshida’s treasure. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll be able to train some more too, get some more of the money he so desperately needs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been lucky.

 

* * *

 

 

He stares at the flowers. They stare back at him. Their glare is painful, their bright colours digging into his eyes. It’s annoying of them to be so aggressively cheerful, all he wants to do is tell them to calm down, but his boss is right there, ready to judge. Or to send him home due to “being so exhausted the colour yellow is painful” and tell him to get a good night’s rest. He almost scowls at the thought.

It’s not like he’d sleep well anyway. Even after exploring all of Kamoshida’s palace yesterday, reaching the treasure without breaking, he was tossing and turning all night, unable to keep his eyes shut. The little sleep he did get was so broken it’s barely worth mentioning.

All in all, just a typical night for him.

He’s really letting Morgana down, isn’t he?

He sighs, before blinking and refocusing. What was he even doing again? Oh, that’s right, making a bouquet with brightly coloured flowers. He picks the ones that hurt his eyes the most and wraps them haphazardly.

It looks – alright? That’s surprising – but then again, he’s worked here so often he could probably make bouquets with his eyes closed.

And isn’t that a tempting thought.

He sighs.

“Akira-kun!”

He turns around to face – what was her name again, Hanasaki? – Hanasaki, a smile plastered on his face. She gives him a genuine smile back, and gestures to the customer beside her. He looks over to him, and his smile freezes in place.

“This customer is looking for a bouquet for a birthday. Please make one for him.”

“Oh, it’s you again,” Akechi says pleasantly.

Hanasaki looks between them, clasping her hands together. There’s a twinkle in her eye, and Akira can only feel dread.

“Oh, are you two friends? Well, why don’t we make this your last bouquet, Akira-kun, and then you two can catch up with each other!”

Akechi looks alarmed. Akira can only nod.

He really appreciates her unending cheerfulness and kindness, really – he’s learnt a lot about them from her – but right now, he feels anything but grateful.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose, don’t let me –“

Hanasaki waves him away.

“No, no it’s no trouble! He’s almost done for the day anyway, so don’t stress.”

Akira turns away from them. Akechi doesn’t know how futile is efforts are – Hanasaki is unrelenting – and he’s got a bouquet to make.

He looks at his workstation. There’s really a lot of flowers to choose from, and he really wants this bouquet to be perfect, so he takes his time to pick the best ones. If he’s stalling, well – could anyone blame him?

He shouldn’t have spent so long in Kamoshida’s castle yesterday - he might have been more prepared for this encounter. Then again, chances are he’d still be entirely overwhelmed. Still entirely unprepared for Akechi – an Akechi that remembers their embarrassing last meeting.

He resists the urge to stab a flower into his eyes. What an absolute mess. He was so uncomposed that day, he almost wishes Akechi would skip the bullshit and just shoot him already. It’ll probably be less painful than whatever the future holds for him in a detective prince/murderer shaped box of absolute _fucking_ delights.

There’s nothing he can do now to avoid this, just like there wasn’t anything he could’ve done to avoid his previous fate though. He twirls the flower around in his hands and adds it to the bouquet, finishing it off.

It looks wonderful.

At least one of them does.

He turns around and hands it to Hanasaki, who gives him a smile. She turns to face Akechi, and presents it to him with a bow. He looks as uncomfortable as Akira feels. It’s satisfying how awkward he can be.

Hanasaki pulls him aside and hands him his pay.

“There’s extra in there, for how well you’ve done today. Now, have fun with your friend! I appreciate all your hard-work, so take a break and relax for a bit, okay?”

He nods. His exhaustion must be more obvious than he thought, then.

She smiles, and watches as he moves to Akechi. Yep, definitely would prefer another bullet to the head.

Akechi just watches as he makes his way over and stops in front of him.  The silence is stifling, and Akira can barely stand it except–

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

Akira shrugs.

The alternative isn’t much better.

“It’s okay, I was almost finished anyway. I should really be the one apologising for, uh,” he makes a meaningless gesture with his hands. “Last time. I wasn’t having the best day.”

So smooth, Akira. He resists the urge to groan into his hands.

Akechi frowns.

“No, that’s quite alright. I could tell you weren’t doing so well. As long as you’re okay now …?”

The concern is just as jarring as last time. It’s unnecessary as well - he was fine then, even almost forgetting that he’d been injured at all. Sure, his body didn’t stop aching till a few days ago and his leg still hurts a little, but it’s nothing really.

He rubs a hand behind his neck. He feels so uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He really needs to change the topic before Akechi starts asking more questions. “Who’s the bouquet for? Someone special?”

Idiot. Akechi has no one, he knows that. That fact was burnt into his heart a long time ago, in a café Akechi used to say felt like home.

Akechi blinks, before giving him a wry grin.

“Ahaha, no one like that, don’t worry. My co-worker promised me sushi if I did her a favour and got her flowers for her sisters birthday tomorrow.”

Oh, it’s Makoto’s birthday already? Time’s being going so fast he didn’t even realise it was approaching. He wishes he could wish her a happy birthday, but it’d mean nothing coming from him now.

“Her sister must be very lucky, to get such a nice bouquet. The sushi must be very good, for you to go to all this trouble.”

Akechi laughs.

“Such a nice bouquet, huh? You sure are confident in your skills. Though, you’re not wrong – it’s very nice, I really must  congratulate you on your skills. As for the sushi,” Akechi holds his hand up to his chin. It’s such a familiar move that his heart almost aches. “It’s always good but,” he frowns, almost muttering to himself, “she didn’t promise it wouldn’t just be conveyer belt sushi.”

Akira laughs. It sounds hollow to even himself. He doesn’t know what he feels anymore. He can’t deny his missed this but –

_This is how your justice ends._

He can’t afford to get close again, not to anyone. Oh sure, he can pretend to – see how much information he can get – but that’s all it will ever be. Pretend.

It’s far more than ~~they~~ Akira deserves.

Akechi gives him a pleased little smile before ironing out his face.

“I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m terribly sorry for being so rude. I’m Akechi Goro, it’s nice to meet you.”

He gives a bow before straightening up. Akira should really introduce himself now too, but –

“So you’re that detective nobody will stop gossiping about, huh?”

Akechi gives a little laugh and rubs his hands together awkwardly, pretending to be humble. Liar. Akira sees right through him.

“Oh, no, I’m not that famous – I just solve a few cases every now and then.”

Akira stares at him, and his face goes a little red.

Hah.

He shakes his head and returns Akechi bow.

“Kurusu Akira. Nice to meet you, Detective Prince.”

Akechi laughs awkwardly, before stepping back.

“I should really be heading off now, but,” he gives a little smile, “I’ll see you around.”

He leaves with a wave, which Akira returns. He watches as he leaves, only turning around to head home when Akechi’s back has disappeared from sight.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a lot of commotion around Shujin. It’s weird - it’s only ever this busy when exam results have come out and –

Akira has a bad feeling.

He walks, fast, to the bulletin board, almost pushing people out of the way. There’s rumours in the air, but for once they’re not focused on him, but instead -

He stops.

Everything’s been the same in far too many ways since he’s come back to April, but he didn’t think this would happen. Not this time.

He grabs one of the calling cards and stares at it in his hands.

The first Phantom Thief logo stares back, right through him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was r fun to write, actually, so i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did!! and thanks for 200 kudos!! that's so much more than i'd ever think i'd get hehehe. also, thanks so much to everyone who's commented!! they r r r r r fuel me and i just <333 love them so much!
> 
> as always, please feel free to talk to me on twitter @boredycat ! i'm always free to talk!
> 
> (also WOW more than 10k now . . . i've never written that much before :DD)


	7. Chapter 7

Everything’s out of focus. It’s all a mess of contradictions – things are too distant but too close, too real but too fake, too large but too small. His hands are too big and feel like saucepans, but feel too small as well, insignificant and _nothing_ compared to literally everything else in this godforsaken world. He closes his eyes to get away from it all but even that’s wrong – he sees nothing, but it’s so much nothing that it really can’t be called nothing at all. _He’s_ nothing, experiencing everything all at once. He should just be another shadow in the corner, pretending to be human in a world that’s long rejected him. Instead, he exists in a world that is overwhelmingly nothing, only tied to it through the calling cards in his pocket.

He grabbed three, earlier, in a haze he barely remembers, almost crumpling them in his hands as doing so. They’re so fragile, made from such thin paper, and so light that the rustle of students caused them to be dislodged from the board. They’re nothing – or they should be nothing, yet they still weigh him down like they’re bricks, and are still messing up his head like _he_ got _hit_ by bricks.

He doesn’t know why he’s like this – well, he does, but it shouldn’t make him be like this – useless and full of fucking shit. Of course the Phantom Thieves were going to happen, with or without him – what does he think he is, important? He thought he could change things, protect his friends but, no, this was always going to happen, wasn’t it? The only thing’s that’s changed is that he’s not a part of it – not there to protect his friends, just leaving on their own.

Is someone going to get shot in his place, then?

A shiver runs down his spine – well, up, really. Everything’s all upside down, after all.

He’s so lost.

There’s only one thing he can do, now. He’s backed himself into this corner, hell if he isn’t going to keep on going. It’s still better than the alternative, even if it means he can’t protect his friends for a while. He just needs to back himself into his little old corner faster before it’s too late for them.

Something tells him it’s already too late.

His hand is tracing something on the desk. The sensation feels foreign to him, as well as his hand – he gets the feeling that if someone cut it off, he wouldn’t even notice until he looked down, and even then –

He needs to shut up and get a _fucking_ grip.

He needs to get moving, get working – after school, for sure. Though if he does that, he can’t watch them in Kamoshida’s castle, make sure everything goes okay – but it’s not his place, they’re not even friends in this timeline. If he went, he’d only watch them anxiously and waste time he can’t afford to waste, or jump in and waste everything he’s done so far. But what to do, he doesn’t know – except that’s a lie, there’s some half-baked plan in his head that’s been rattling around since he’s started all this, but it was too dangerous, before.

It’s still dangerous now but, well, who’s paying attention? Maybe all of his bad luck will finally pay off and something good will happen now. At the very least, he can’t do nothing.

Chouno’s voice floats in the background, flying further and further away from him.

 

* * *

 

 

Madarame’s shack looks as desolate as he remembers. He hates it – hates what it represents and just for what it was – or still is, in this timeline – to Yusuke. He just wants to reach in and drag him out and give him what he deserves (the world). Maybe he’ll also drag Madarame out and give him what _he_ deserves as well – nothing less than absolute hell. But if he does that, Yusuke would scratch his eyes out with a paintbrush and Madarame would be a nice old man and get him arrested like any good citizen would do. The police would probably happily drug him and beat him up as well, like any good cop would do.

It’s still tempting, despite that.

Anyway, he’s not here for Yusuke (and he shoves away his guilt at that), he’s here for information. He has to try, there’s nothing else left. Mementos was a bust, there’s no other Palace he can get into far enough to talk to their owner’s, he hasn’t met Ohya yet and he doesn’t know how to do that again and he just –

He needs this to work.

He enters the keywords and steps into the Meta-verse, watching as Madarame’s shack becomes the museum.  It’s glitzy and over-the-top as he remembers, and so gaudy that it makes him feel sick. If Madarame had to be some greedy, abusive fucking bastard, he at least should’ve had _some_ taste.

He drags out the money from his bag, and absently thrums his hand through it. In reality, the 10,000 yen notes looked so fake Akira could hear Yusuke complaining, but here, they look real – hopefully real enough. If it stayed like this when he left the Meta-verse, he’d be able to use the seediest tourists shop in Tokyo to become the richest man in Japan. It’d be great – sure, it would paint a giant target on his back that Akechi wouldn’t even hesitate to shoot at, but it’d be worth it. Maybe.

He sighs.

His plan, it should work. Madarame loves money, Shadow Madarame can’t shut the fuck up, Akira has money _and_ is willing to listen, what could go wrong? And even if it fails, he can always just beat the shit out of him until Madarame spills about the Black Mask. Or he could just destroy Madarame anyway, even if the plan doesn’t fail. It’s what he deserves, really, and it’s what Akira really, really wants to do.

He puts the money away, and turns his attention back to the Palace. It’s less busy, with not as many people lined up out the front. Hopefully this means security is laxer, though honestly it won’t be a problem for him either way. He goes around the back way, jumping on the pillars like a true Phantom Thief and jumping through the window. It’s only when he’s on the ground that he realises that he’s forgotten a rope, but whatever, it’ll be okay. He’ll just climb the wall or something, it’ll be easy – if he could jump from the Casino’s stained glass window and end up fine, he can do this. Well, not fine, but he’s not going to think about what happened afterwards – it won’t happen this time and that’s enough for him.

It’s quiet inside, Akira can only hear the gentle hum of the security system as he makes his way through the paintings. They look at him with dead, cold eyes, pleading for help, and it makes him go cold, a little dead too, the fact that Madarame even realised what he was doing to them, and yet he still –

Well, there’s nothing to gain from knowing that, is there? It’s not like it’s new information either, just an old wound, old anger that he never truly buried. He relaxes and ignores their gazes, letting them slide right over him.

He avoids Yusuke’s portrait altogether.

Madarame’s in the entrance hall, directing Shadows around the place. He’d forgotten how horrible his outfit was – probably on purpose, so he wouldn’t have nightmares about his gaunt face and gaudy outfit chasing him around. The thought makes him shiver. Now he’s definitely going to have nightmares about that.

He brings himself out from the shadows and the Shadows attention is immediately on him. One of them gets Madarame attention and he turns around with a scowl, only to jump when he sees Akira. He can’t say it isn’t satisfying, and it brings a grin to his face, only to tamper it down to a gentle smile. He’s trying to be likeable here, not the smug, Madarame-hating bastard he really is.

The Shadows circle him - Akira lets them. They move out of the way to let Madarame in front of him, with a bitter scowl on his face.

He makes sure to keep his pleasantly neutral.

“Welcome to the museum of the master artist Madarame. Now,” he raises his hand, and the guards get ready to attack. “State your business, thief.”

He chuckles lightly and puts his hands up.

“I’m no thief, and besides, your paintings are too precious to the world to be stolen.” The lies drip from his tongue like poison, and Akira feels like slime.

“What else then, child? The great Madarame does not have time to play games with _children_.” Madarame sneers at him.

“There’s something I need to ask, something only the master artist Madarame can answer.” Akira can’t quite himself the sneer in his own tone, but Madarame doesn’t seem to notice as he laughs at him.

“Foolish child, you cannot afford my time.” He begins to raise his arm again, no doubt for the guards to attack him. Akira brings out the money, and his arm stops. Madarame’s face morphs into disgusting greed, and Akira wants to throw up. Of course wearing clothes of solid gold isn’t enough for him, he knew this, but seeing it so clearly is horrible.

He looks down and moves his hand through the money, slowly, absentmindedly.

“Is this not enough? Such a shame, I’ll just have to get rid of it another way then.” He grabs the lighter he purchased earlier and lights it, bringing it closer and closer to the money until -

“No!”

Akira smiles a little. Madarame coughs and waves his arms towards the guards. They stand down and step back, giving them more space.

“That’ll be enough, I’ll answer what questions you have.”

Akira flicks the lighter off, and Madarame visibly relaxes. He watches him carefully as he puts the lighter away, the money safe – for now.

Madarame smiles at him, the expression looking wrong on his face.

“Now, what did you want to ask? Were you interested in a painting? I can get you any one to hang up in your home, for a price of course, but I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you, no?”

Akira would rather peel off his own skin. Or peel off Madarame’s skin and hang it up in Leblanc – he’s sure it’d fit in nicely.

Instead, he laughs a little, and waves him off, money still in hand. Madarame’s gaze follows it like a pathetic little puppy.

“No, nothing like that – your paintings are priceless, after all.” Madarame opens his mouth but Akira ignores him, pushing on. “It’s nothing so precious I’m after – and you won’t have to lose anything at all.”

Madarame raises an eyebrow at him. Akira leans forward.

“What do you know of the man in the black mask?”

Akira isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but for Madarame to burst into laughter isn’t one of them. His topknot bobbles, and Akira grits his teeth, resisting the urge to light it on fire with a well-placed _Agidyne_. He stops suddenly, and looks at Akira with a look that makes his skin crawl.

“Nothing, and there’s nothing to know.”

Akira blinks. Does he seriously –

“That doesn’t seem –“

The look on Madarame’s face intensifies.

“Not even I know anything about him – he’s only a tool to keep everyone in line.”

Akira takes a deep breath, and meets Madarame’s face dead on. Madarame’s face changes to one of – fear?

“That’s all I have to tell you! Now, leave already, or I’ll make you.”

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be it. This can’t be.

His feet move forward. Madarame steps back.

“That’s it? You know nothing? Not even whose tool he is?”

The Shadows around him are transforming, but Akira ignores them. He ignores everything expect Madarame, eyes focused on him as he moves forward. Madarame shakes his head as he steps back, almost tripping on his kimono.

“His employer helps me sell my paintings in exchange for funding, that’s all I know. I don’t even know his identity – it’s all kept under wraps!”

Hm, so that’s how it is, then. His feet stop, and relief fills Madarame’s face. He takes the lighter out and sets the money on fire, before throwing it at him.

“Thank you for your help.”

He turns around, and runs – from Madarame, from the Shadows, from the Palace, from his own fucking _failures_. The museum all blurs around him, and his brain is in a haze – one that makes his one in class look like child’s play. He doesn’t stop till he’s outside the Palace, breathing deeply, sliding against a wall with his head in his hands.

So that’s it, then.

Nothing came out of that – he didn’t even get a name, a real hint at his identity, anything at all that he could work with. Only that Black Mask is a tool – and he could’ve figured that out on his own – and that his employer helps Madarame commit fraud. How doesn’t Madarame know anything? Did he tell them, last time? No, no, he didn’t, did he? He was asking _them_ about the Black Mask, not the other way around. How could he be so useless?

He wasn’t expecting much from this, just something – something more. He can’t work with this, and there’s nothing left to do except to wait – waiting, which will only put him, his friends, everyone, in more and more danger.

He curls in closer, hands tight around his mask. He feels gross, feels like slime, like a useless piece of trash. What the fuck is he even doing here? This was never going to be easy, he thought he knew that, but it’s clear now that he didn’t.

He breathes and breathes and breathes. After what feels like an entirety, he loosens his hands, and unfurls, looking up. Nothing looks right, but that’s okay, for now.

He stretches his legs out and closes his eyes. So maybe he can’t fix everything right now, maybe he has to wait. So maybe he can’t protect his friends right now, from inside as a Phantom Thief or from outside either. Maybe there’s nothing much he can do right now, but that’s okay.

He can be patient.

At least there’s Ohya - he’ll get in contact with her and help her with her partner so he can find out more about the mental shutdown incidents. He can befriend Akechi too, see what he can get out of him – probably not a lot, but that’s alright. Other leads will come up, surely – they did last time, after all. That’s all he can do for now, really. There are other ways he can be useful, too – he can just help everyone with their problems again, find out what Igor meant and do Mementos requests, do the same old things he did last time.

He’ll do everything – but in due time. He’s got nowhere to be now, nowhere he belongs. So, for now, he can just stare at the sky, watching the sun set in the distance behind the glitz of Madarame’s Palace, and breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hoped you enjoyed this chapter! i'm going to be on uni break soon, so i mighttt update more frequently (fingers crossed). thank you for all your comments, i <3333 them hehe. i'm on twitter at @boredycat so feel free to talk to me there as well!!

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter at @boredycat !!


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